


the weight of this

by littleficlets (addictedkitten)



Category: One Direction, Radio 1 RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-19
Updated: 2013-02-19
Packaged: 2017-12-03 16:46:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/700486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/addictedkitten/pseuds/littleficlets
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nick and Harry sharing Harry's bunk on the tourbus.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the weight of this

“The _sacrifices_ I make,” Nick mumbled, nuzzling nonetheless into the back of Harry’s neck. It was hardly even an affectionate gesture; Nick’s back was against the wall, literally, so Nick didn’t have a great many options as to where he could rest his nose. It was Harry’s shoulder or his neck, or make Harry shuffle downwards to fit better but then Nick would suffer a face full of curls. He’d thought the popstar life was supposed to be glamorous, and all that. God, the _lies_ he’d been fed.

“So noble,” Harry murmured. He snuggled further back into Nick, even though he’d already left a vast plain of empty bed between himself and the edge of the bunk, at least three decadent inches that Nick could be using for breathing space. Harry covered Nick’s hand with his own where it was pressed to his stomach, dragged it upwards so their entwined hands were right over Harry’s heart, like he wanted Nick to pull him all the way inside, tuck Harry into himself, one beating heart, one set of lungs with which to share breath. 

“I am noble,” said Nick, a beat too late, not feeling very noble at all. Feeling a bit sentimental, truth be told. He was no fool, he’d shared tiny spaces with boys before, twin beds at uni, knew that he couldn’t manage sleep in such a close space without being pass-out drunk or medicated for it. He’d packed a few industrial-strength sleeping pills for the journey, if he was going to be playing the boyfriend along on tour, watching adoringly from sidestage during shows and tucked up in Harry’s bunk on the bus with him at night, not even the excuse of working. He was just here, here for Harry. With Harry. Must have been the pills making him feel all soppy, got him into a woozy state all cuddled up with his boyfriend, all vulnerable like. Industrial-strength sentiment pills, damn Big Pharma straight to hell. 

“Glad you’re along,” said Harry, who could fall asleep in a crowded room under fluorescent lights, who could fall asleep wrapped around Nick like a clinging vine without aid of anything but the constant, worrying exhaustion of touring. “It’s better when you’re here.” He pulled their joined hands up, kissed Nick’s knuckles, let their hands settle back on the bed, pressed to his warm bare chest. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Nick said, as quietly as he could in the dark hush of Harry’s bunk. He kissed the back of Harry’s neck, a soft brush of lips, and Harry made a pleased noise. “So much,” he added when Harry squeezed his hand, feeling the weight of his words, the weight of his bones, the weight of _this_ , how it felt to be with Harry, a sweet heaviness.

And Nick let his eyes fall shut, let himself settle, let himself sleep.


End file.
